Tuesday, March 25, 2008

He is the very measure from which the world was fashioned, and his reality, though imperfect, is what makes his artwork perfect for such a world.

- Humanities Exam, January 2008

"Dapat lage happy!



The imperfection of the world is what makes it soo beautiful! Why spoil it with our gloom?! Just smile! Yeah!



Sige, ingat lage ah! Yeah yeah yeah!"

-My friend RJ, Friendster Testimonial
11/14/2006 7:38 pm

We all know he's probably up in heaven right now. I read his blog and some of his stuff seriously this time, pareho pa rin kami ng ideas.

I'll live up to it, don't worry. I'll make good use of this mind, don't worry.

7:21 PM

Monday, March 24, 2008

It's my 8th day of free unli. Naglolokong globe? Ayos.

5:37 PM

Thursday, March 20, 2008

They come and go... They come, because they wanted to, and they go... Because I let them go.


For all the things you have done for me, it would be unfair if my gratitude would be left unspoken. This is from someone who, amidst all the knowledge that has earned her merits, does not even know how to say thank you. I show my gratitude through this cowardice, otherwise known as blogging.

Claret interaction, October 2005. I have considered this event worthless. I found my self in the bathroom, amusing my self by looking at excited faces, anxious on the way they look. Those rich enough dabble pinches of blush on their cheeks, while the others just slap their faces. Nonetheless, they still all look the same. I looked at myself, and well, I don't give a damn. I just made sure I had nothing on my face, no trace of the food I last ate is good enough. It started off in an awkward fashion. My teacher was like the pimp, and we were all the commodities. Kidding. I waited for my turn, and I got seated between two males. The other one looked considerably well-polished, while the other looked like a character from Pugad Baboy. In preschool, I was picky enough to know whom I'll like to talk to. This time was not much different from preschool, I immediately turned to the one who looked more human, and he did the same. Preschool, ne? Blablabla. Maybe I just got lucky, I didn't really imagined myself to actually manage a conversation, nor was I really interested. Most of my classmates said they got a crush on him, well he wasn't really my designated partner but he turned out to be in the end. There were only a few hours left before they leave for the bus, so he asked for my number. I gave my e-mail. Blablabla. Finally, they were leaving. While there was chaos because of people fixing their bags, I caught a glimpse of him near the door, leaning on the wall. He scared me, I believe he waited for something or somebody--I didn't care. I went out of the room immediately to go upstairs. I am not polite enough to greet or even say goodbye to anyone, nor give someone I know a smile. I had a lot of people beside me, until I heard my name. It was just like in the movies--he went out of the room, I turned my back to see who just called. Even if there were a lot of people watching, he let out a pack of chocolates, and gave it to him... I knew there were a lot of eyes... and hissing... eh, I was stunned. Yes, perhaps shock is a normal human emotion, and so is being stunned. Although many might protest I am not human enough, ( I can almost hear you say, ikaw? Kinilig? Nagulat?) but it would be unfair to say if I didn't feel exactly that. I didn't like him, but I liked what he did.

Sometimes we talked over the net, but it wasn't usual, there was nothing special. I am not keen on those things. He amused me, though, he always had an air of over cooked self confidence, like calling himself HOT. I said I like cool people, so he said he's cool. And because he said he was hot, he liked a lot of girls, too. Funny, I liked girls, too! Haha! Kidding. Sort of. Anyway, he became a brother, and I his little sister. We really didn't talk often, we're even more of acquaintances than friends. When I told my friends the sad news of my grandpa's death, he sent messages that really did do their part. He explained things about death, how we should cheer up, and stuff like that. No wonder the term Acres and I coined up for him fits him perfectly--"Patay".

He died. Shortly after his 19th birthday. I didn't get to greet him, because he forgot to greet me on my birthday. I didn't invite him anyway, so, It's my fault, again. I never got to say thank you for helping me do my final book report in high school, it was his favorite book, by Leroux, which I worked on.

I didn't even had the chance to say good bye, I was busy with pointless, useless, schoolwork. I just texted him that day, to ask for prayers sa nalalapit na contest. And then a few minutes later, someone told me he's dead. I wasn't the one who needed prayers... It was him. Well then, goodbye, and thank you my friend. Your writings, although tragic, romantic, and happy, have always been very very good. You are a great writer. Well, you were.

Here's a video (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8EssbF2lMvU") of him... Thanks to the source.
The hairs of my right arm are raising, and the wind is blowing smoothly. They say that at the peak of the Lenten Season, souls wander... I hope you're reading this.

Note:
People catch me often--staring at blank spaces. They say it makes me lose my nerve cells... but what they don't realize that these are moments when I am no where near stupid. These are moments I steal to catch a glimpse of life, I void my vision and listen to my mind.

In these moments, I think about so many things my stupid self won't even allow to exist, like death. Death is a mystery... a mystery worth knowing, but most of all, it is a mystery worth the wait.

This is from somebody, who, due to her own smallness, has mastered the art of making everything large scale.

3:12 PM

Tuesday, March 18, 2008

Marither is not who you think she is.

"Maree", her surreptitious alias, was born into an embryonic intelligence agency. Here she was honed with the entrapments; erudite to shape raw data into coherent and meaningful analysis.

She is highly trained in the arts and can knock a fly unconscious with one sweep of her brush. In Paris, she followed Van Gogh and studied with Cormon.

After this she studied at the Universidad Nacional in Bogota with Gabriel Garcia Marquez. They ate in cheap cafes, and associated with all the usual suspects: literate socialists, starving artists, and budding journalists.

"Maree" toured Asia as one of the secrets of Soviet espionage, mentored by Pavel Anatolievich Sudoplatov. After trekking through Asia posing as a Korean tourist, she was instructed to stay in the Philippines as part of an intricate international intelligence network.

Tall tales these may seem and most might smirk at this deliberate unfolding. This is all part of the great master plan, you see. She will never admit to such things and will proceed to her best imitation of a drooling ,nondescript teenager to mock such exuberant allegations. Yet what scares you is not that only a psychologically imbalanced person can write this testimony, but because most of the things written here are starting to make sense. You look at Marither and see that nothing is impossible.


____
I still feel the same irkiness I felt the first time I read this. This was done by my sis, after a week of bullying, she only managed to write something for me 5 minutes before I went to school. The first 3 paragraphs don't define me, it describes my sister more. Don't you think so? "starving artists" --no no, It just can't be me. Anyway, it's weird. And weird is... quite good.

9:15 PM

I remember, Dr. Clai (now dean of CASE), once asked us to make a dream book. What would you be, 10 years from now... I don't exactly remember what's in it, though I remember Eunice's laugh upon hearing the name Won Bin... I want to read it again, but Doc Clai asked for it, so it's no longer with me. It'd be interesting to see how much I've accomplished, just after 2 years...


Dream... is such a dreamy word. It sounds like food, or perhaps because I equate the word with food.

When I was still small a kid, I used to dream a lot. I didn't get the things I wanted, I had to do a lot of things before I could lay my hands on a cake brought from the market. Yes, that's how far my dreams could dare thread. I dreamed of a lot of things, but looking back, I can say they were all achievable. Those impossible were my wishes, not dreams. To make it simpler, I dreamt low.


I started my preschool with a lot of merits. I had good grades--but everyone had good grades when they were still innocent. I had awards--but everyone had awards of all sorts. It wasn't much of a distinction, it was just normal. I still remember the day when my mom held my hand as we took my report card from my advisers. The kid before me, Gloria, received a year-end award. Because it seemed all too normal, my mom followed their example and let out her hand. My teachers gave nothing. It was the 90's, everyone had their fluffy bangs on, and my mom's probably fell stiff at that moment. I wanted to say sorry, I knew, at such a very young age, I have disappointed my mom. I think, she never expected anything from me anymore. That's probably the reason why they don't encourage us to reap awards, expectations could lead into frustrations. Better start with none.

Because of that, I drooled over awards. It was enough for me to at least get close to an average of 88 when I was in grade school, and I did. I only got the diploma after grade school, so this time, I drooled over becoming an honor student. I did. As a sophomore student, all I ever wished for was to have a year end award. You know, year end awards mean that you never missed a quarter without being part of the honor roll. And I did. When I was in third year, all I ever wanted was to be part of the top ten... of the batch. And I did. I ranked 7th. In fourth year, all I ever wanted was to graduate with honors. And I did. I was part of the "honorable" mention (don't start arguing about the term honorable..), and I also topped the class. I never dreamt of topping the class.

Graduating with honors was just a far fetched dream, until it came true. College era, well, I dreamt of being part of the Dean's List, and I never did.


However, I became part of the President's List, and I even topped college once. Shet. Perhaps my wish of becoming a Suma Cum Laude is not far behind... Now, I make it a dream.

Cause you know, dreams do come true.

8:37 PM

Monday, March 17, 2008

There was silence.

The semi bald, archipelago headed professor passed smoothly, his big, gay-betraying body swam through the humid, maggot-riddled hell.

Jojo just entered the cafeteria. He was about to fill his plate with the food he usually pigs out on. Then he went to another place to buy refreshments. This time, he saw us.

Yes, he saw Palad and I, his past slaves. Oh yes, we were more than happy to be his slaves, who wouldn't enjoy listening to every word of gayness that flies out of his mouth? But because of lack of time, or probably just being stubborn, I failed to attend to his calls. I couldn't look at him in the eye anymore, I owe so much, he used to praise me. My paperworks in high school could not even merit high grades. I was so used to 7 over 10, or 20 over 25 over some formal manuscripts. But he, (or she) being an ultra laitera, gave me more than perfect, and even showed my essay to the goddess author herself. Now, however, everything's just about being civil, no longer casual.

Jojo saw us, and being the graceful and manner-laden swan (or duck) he believes himself to be, let out a flying kiss.

Kinilig at nandiri si Palad at the same time. I was shocked--could that be his famed kiss of death? Is he the face behind the dementor's cloak? Shet. I wish I was back in the good ol' days. He is, undoubtedly, the best professor I ever had. A pity that I ended it this way.

A day after...

I read my friend's entry about the very same person... I admit, my friend and I were treated differently. While she held onto her "unrequited love" (haha), I just brushed it aside. Anyway, it's all useless now. But given a chance, I'll trade my minors to suffer all over again, just for the sake of learning. Yes, it was only in his/her class I took pride in learning. My style of writing, which I regret to say is now suffering technical ailments, is still very much what he/she has molded it to be. An flirtatious beginning, and a crisp, solid, impaktong ending. Yes, that was what we all had--a flirtatious start, and a very very solid end. Cheers.

5:29 PM

I am so sorry my dear blog, you have been dead for how many months now. I am sorry, because I forgot you dear old password.

It's 2008, and it started with a blast. It is also officially the end of my 2nd sem in Nursing, I shall be third year soon after summer. And I still look like a high school student, only that I turned out to look like that moon-faced houris present in paradise... You do know that the moon has a lot of craters, right?

Let me see, my first semester was quite boring, it was purely studies and a little of intrams. Every night I went home very late, because we were all required to be part of the pep squad. Let's forget about that--I have little memories about it.

Now, second year, second sem. Yes, I will never forget this period. It was life changing, and life stopping. I thought I'd be simply rocking my boat since majority of my subjects were just minor courses. It started with Red Cross Training, and I learned how to revive people through CPR. Just that weekend, my grandpa was gone. He was 74. My number in red cross was 74. He died of CP Arrest. Yeah, my world stopped... I do not know how to handle death, nor do I know how to comfort those left behind, when I know I am also in need of such comfort. My classes no longer seemed important to me, I slept through some, and even didn't smile at all. Christmas came, even if it didn't feel like the usual holiday, my birthday came, it didn't feel like I was 18 at all. New Year came, hey, are you sure 2007's over?

Unfortunately, some professors, even with my great sulk, discovered what I am partly capable of. They joined me in some UP contest, which involved case studies. I'm so sick of it already, I won't tell you about it. Just look at my multiply photos. They say a picture says a thousand words, so why don't you let those photos describe you each irritating detail, okay? Yah, I enjoyed, I learned, but sorry, I still don't know what team work means. And people are just lucky, because I don't complain. But that's dangerous, I am very dangerous when I'm silent, you just don't know what plans I have. I have plans of leaving, because a once-in-a-lifetime experience like this is more than enough to happen just once. Anyway, I am very much grateful to all of them, they made me forget whatever it is I am mourning for... I even forgot I was supposed to mourn over the death of a good friend. Now, that's really bad.



We had a concert. My highschool friends would be shocked to know that I didn't perform on stage. That's why I didn't invite you anymore, I don't want you to be disappointed. Oh, I did the unusual things. Like fix some problems, design this, design that, do this avp, do those lights, attend even if there's nothing to do, bla bla, bla bla, bla. Sorry, I am nothing near conventional, common, and usual. Although our concert went perfectly fine, I could say I am content in saying I didn't touch any concept they had, cause it really is very much different from what I could have imagined it to be. If I weren't busy in Dialogos, baka hindi ko mapigilan ang pagpapatupad ng mga kapenguinan kong kalokohan dun. For those who know me and my ideas, you know I can show you what creative and innovative and fun means. I'll fly soon anyways, and I'll spread my midget germs else where.

I finally bought some books a while ago. Perhaps, mababalik na ang aking creative juices. I lost my creative writing skills somewhere, napalitan kasi ng technical words eh. Hay, I am changing a lot, and it's not that good. That's the end of 2007-2008 folks, just browse my multiply to see pictures. It was fun, believe me.

4:58 PM

Earlier, I managed to read a line on the newspaper saying that there was zero crime rate yesterday as Pacquiao fought Marquez. The zero crime rate has been a trend each time Pacquiao takes the bloody center stage. A lot of those inspired by his bloody English say that Pacman is capable of bringing the nation together, unifying the country each time he faces his own debacle. "I thanks the God"

I doubt this. It could be that people were too busy watching that they didn't notice crimes. Or, people were way too ecstatic that they did not even consider the definition of a crime... Or...

I don't believe Pacquiao, although undoubtedly the best boxing champ at present, curbs crimes. Those who watch him, even with tons of advertising eye sores, throw their unpadded fists in the air every time the Filipino punches his opponent. Those who watch him are charged with the same anger, and are fueled by the same adrenaline as is present in Mandalay Bay. Those who watch him throw vulgar verbal assaults, probably more than what Pacquiao could even think of. Those who watch him pay bets of mysterious origin. It is the same thrill, the same excitement you get out of crimes, only that it's not actually you who's receiving equally heavy blows. Boxing is boxing--it has the same elements of a brutal crime, only that it is made legal due to belts at stake, or probably because of the millions of dollars associated with it. Well, anything in this world could be assumed right as long as it can be made to appear as acceptable... ehem, financially acceptable.

Anyway, good or bad, I still enjoy watching Pacquiao. I feel as if I'm the one fighting--it's a good feeling. :D I'm the kind of person who'll want to punch somebody so bad... and I'll end up forgetting everything, aside from the fact that I can't even punch.

Nah, this is a nonsensical entry. Just want to offer some entry to my old class' past idol.

4:43 PM

Friday, July 20, 2007

Here's a relatively short but not concise summary of what has transpired in my first 2 months in my second year.

Anaphysio Blues
In order to assess correct medical actions, nurses should know which part is which. No, there is no Pubic Bone within the Femur (whoever said that in my class. haha).
It has seemed as if Anaphysio is my only subject, for I have been reading the book just about every night. Self study is the only thing that keeps me alive, and I take my sleep and recharge during the class itself.

PL and DL Blues
They announced that I was DL, so I took the certificate with a face so sullen.
Period.

APEP
There's this academic p... e.... program wherein departmental geniuses are selected (forced unknowingly) to teach your fellow schoolmates. Other activities would be joining contests, exposure trips to UPLB, UP... bla bla (shucks nakauniform? oh nos).
Yah, I'm included, but they didn't tell me. Surprise pa ata gusto nila. Math, Science and English. My gosh, I can barely find a time for my self, so I guess I'll just be absent in the meetings if possible. :D

*update more soon*

Labels: -

6:37 PM

Sunday, June 10, 2007

Pagbaba sa hagdanan may nakasabay akong daga. Nagmamadali pa itong magtago sa elepanteng statwa.

Pagakyat sa hagdanan naroon pa rin ang kaluskos ng daga. Pagkakita ko nasa may taas na siya ng matangkad na lampara. Dali dalian kong inakyat ang hagdanan at baka ito tumalon sa akin. Minasdan ko siya dahil gusto ko malaman kung paano siya makakababa. Madali lang pala. Hindi siya nagdive. Parang nagparachute landing na wala namang parachute.

Sa kasamaang palad hindi siya namatay. Nagtago ulit sa elepante.

8:18 PM